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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097889">We Can Never Be Friends</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentexplorer18/pseuds/silentexplorer18'>silentexplorer18</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Auror Harry Potter, Bisexual Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Boys Kissing, Cigarettes, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Enemies with benefits?, Explicit Language, F/M, Fashion Designer Draco Malfoy, Hand Jobs, Inspired by Music, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Not much plot, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Smoking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:02:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,625</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097889</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentexplorer18/pseuds/silentexplorer18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Machine Gun Kelly's song "why are you here."</p>
<p>Harry doesn't expect to run into Malfoy after the war, but suddenly they're reunited and running into one another all the time.  They could never be friends, but perhaps it's the added bonus of Malfoy's cock that makes Harry a little more desperate to see Malfoy again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Original Character(s), Harry Potter/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>143</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>We Can Never Be Friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is inspired by "why are you here" by Machine Gun Kelly.  Although you don't need to listen to the song, it can really help you understand the vibe of what I was going for here.</p>
<p>Apologies in advance, this isn't by any means great smut or great writing (there's not a whole lot of plot to it), but I was too inspired to not at least try to write something about this amazing song.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The smoke was bitter on his tongue, a cheap pack of cigs unlike the brand he usually bought.  He’d been desperate then, pacing up and down the length of his office with wide strides, clenching his fists in frustration as he pondered what to do before disapparating to the nearest Muggle shop, purchasing the first pack his eyes landed on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The taste distracted his mind, nicotine calming his nerves like a leaf settling on water.  It would be fine, right? He could do it. Go, drop off the wand, walk away, never interact again.  It would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  It was just Malfoy, after all.  But Malfoy pushed his buttons in a way nobody ever had before or since.  Maybe he had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>reason </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be nervous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he focused on the smoke, hazy, languid curls twirling around his nose, brushing up against the rim of his glasses.  It was almost magic – the mirage of a patronus – that settled a mild feeling of safety in his gut. Malfoy wouldn’t hurt him, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>really.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Harry was powerful, and though he hated showing the strength of his magic, he could if need be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was halfway through a third cigarette by the time he’d reached Malfoy’s street, checking the crumpled parchment in his pocket one last time before daring to step foot down the quiet sidewalk.  Glancing down at the dying glow of his smoke, Harry sighed. Hermione hated the habit, wished he’d chosen a better way to cope with his post-war anxieties, but after an initial few conversations ending in explosions and disappointment, she only sent him displeased glances every once in a blue moon.  Taking a final drag, he snubbed the butt under the worn sole of his shoe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door looked just like any other on the street, nothing to define it as explicitly </span>
  <em>
    <span>Malfoy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but something in Harry’s gut could still tell.  Perhaps it was the faint tingling of the wards, the particularly lavish looking stone serpent holding a flower pot, the almost imperceptible green glitter of the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knocked, wishing he’d had the common sense to light another smoke first.  But Malfoy didn’t leave him long to dwell on nerves, swinging the door open with a wary glance.  “Potter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Malfoy.”  Hardly a hello, but then again they’d never really done ‘hellos’ anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Narrowed eyes greeted bloodshot ones.  Malfoy didn’t quite sneer, but his stance shifted.  He straightened his spine, curled his shoulders; he’d always been one to look poised in all the ways Harry looked plain.  “Why are you here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He drew the wand from his pocket, hands thankfully not shaking, and held it out to Malfoy.  “I realized I still had this at Grimmauld. Thought you might like it back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy’s expression seemed just as startled as Harry felt.  “You’re a bit late, Potter,” he said, but there was no </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>malice there.  His fingers curled around the Hawthorn, a familiar tingle of old magic just barely lighting his eyes with joy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Truly, Harry hadn’t meant to keep it for as long as he had.  As quickly as he’d taken it from Draco, he’d discarded it on the mantle of Grimmauld after the war had ended.  Everyone and anyone had offered him a wand of his own, some even without price – Harry always opted to pay. The wand had sat there for almost a year collecting dust while he and Ron went through auror training, watching silently as he’d been promoted to a desk job.  He wasn’t in charge of the entire department, only a subsection of the aurors, and that was plenty to handle as it was. When he’d realized the wand was still in his house, haphazardly hidden by ancient trinkets and objects long forgotten, he made the point of looking up where Malfoy lived.  Even though he had no doubt Malfoy’d found a new wand, Harry felt it was only right to return his old one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Harry said nothing more, Draco continued.  “Your gesture is,” he paused, ever cautious with his gratitude, “appreciated.  Perhaps you’d like to come in? It’s only fair I compensate you for your delivery efforts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t take money,” he interjected, feeling embarrassment flutter through his gut at Malfoy’s arched brow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I won’t provide any.  I just opened a bottle of firewhiskey in my study.  Perhaps a glass is warranted?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”  A hint of a smile grazed Harry’s lips.  “That I’d take.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of all things, Harry never thought he’d find himself drinking with Draco Malfoy on a Friday night, but somehow he’d ended up resting on one end of an exquisite dragonhide couch while Malfoy perched on a luxurious wooden desk pouring amber liquid into two extremely ornate glasses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He joined Harry on the opposite end of the couch, offering one of the drinks.  And Harry drank, basking in the familiar burn coursing down his throat. It was welcome only second to the taste of cigarettes on his tongue; the pack was still pressed in his shirt pocket, carelessly tucked away.  As the silence drug on, he wondered if Malfoy would mind smoke in his study.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How have you been?” he asked instead, opting for pleasantries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine.”  It’s a drawl Harry remembers from school.  It comes in a flicker of memories he’s been desperate to forget.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How—” he cleared his throat, “How’s business been?”  There were plans for garments scattered across Malfoy’s desk, mannequins draped with expensive fabric huddled in one corner of the room.  Harry had never expected it, but then again, it made sense. Malfoy was prone to theatrics, and the elaborate garments waiting to be constructed were anything but casual.  His flamboyant fashion had been placed on the covers of countless magazines. Although not always having the most flattering titles in the articles, Malfoy’d managed to create a luxe business, one that appeared to be doing fairly well despite his less than ideal past.  The news liked darkness, drama, controversy – his reputation played into that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged, tongue darting out to lick a small droplet from his lips.  “Things are well. There’s decent enough demand for my services.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good.”  Harry cleared his throat again, focusing back on his drink.  It was nearly empty, but so was Malfoy’s. He downed the last of it, hoping the haze of drunkenness would make things a touch less uncomfortable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then Malfoy stood, long legs striding to his desk to retrieve the bottle, pouring both of their glasses nearly full again.  “Cheers,” he offered, raising his glass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry was quick to follow Malfoy’s lead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t take them long to finish half the bottle, silence other than the clink of Malfoy’s rings on his glass and the low crackle of the fire aiding their plight.  However, the heavy drinking didn’t take long to have an affect on Harry. The buzz was intoxicating, liberating; he could feel inhibition breaking the shackles around his throat.  Normally, it would’ve worried him. He wouldn’t have dared to allow himself to get this drunk with someone he didn’t particularly trust. However, Malfoy looked just as sloshed, cheeks flushed with the alcohol lips quirking up into a smirk as he contemplated his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are we so bad at talking?” he blurted, wide eyes gazing over at Draco.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco laughed, usually pristine hair falling over a brow as he shook his head.  He rolled his eyes at Harry, brushing back his hair like the answer to Harry’s question was obvious.  When Harry continued to stare, Draco finally spoke. “Don’t tell me your daft enough to not know the answer to that, Potter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He squinted.  “What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you already know the answer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Refresh my memory,” he grumbled, taking another gulp of his drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco rolled his eyes, setting his glass down on the side-table with a clink.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he gestured between them both, “don’t get along.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry sighed, clenching tighter to his glass.  “That was before the war, though. We weren’t on the same side, of course we weren’t going to get along.  But now we could—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Draco shook his head, leaning back a little more comfortably on the armrest.  “We couldn’t. War or not, you’re virtuous, Potter. I’m not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re better than your past, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged.  “Perhaps. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t who we are.  I’m branded with darkness, Potter. Something I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>proud </span>
  </em>
  <span>of, but don’t plan on shying away from, either.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>You,</span>
  </em>
  <span>though.  You’re virtuous.  You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>disgustingly </span>
  </em>
  <span>good.  Light. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Savior</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  You’re the man in white.  I’m dark. It’s too difficult for people like us to get along.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry rose, downing the last of his glass.  He stalked to the fire, trying and failing to keep his drunken temper in check.  His words emerged through gritted teeth, more suppressed roar than casual conversation, “You aren’t a bad person, Malfoy.  A git most definitely, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a bad person.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe not.  But </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> person.  That’s the difference.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he wasn’t.  He was never good.  He’d had as little choice in his fate as everyone else.  But even </span>
  <em>
    <span>Malfoy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the one person that had always been his enemy, saw him as something he wasn’t.  “I’m not good!” he shouted, hand thrashing carelessly in frustration. The glass slipped from his fingers, scattering crystalline shards across the floor.  A simple </span>
  <em>
    <span>reparo </span>
  </em>
  <span>would fix it, but his drunken mind couldn’t find the focus to cast one.  His gaze met the sharp features of Malfoy’s face, flushed, eyes wide in surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rose, crossing the room in three deliberate strides.  “You just broke my glass, Potter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sor—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Another thing you’ll have to repay me for,” he muttered.  He leaned in, breath ghosting against Harry’s lips, eyes glinting with the challenge.  “Perhaps you can think of a way to make it up to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry pressed against him, chapped lips tumbling against Draco’s plush ones.  They were surprisingly soft, warm and hungry against Harry’s own. He groaned, hands finding Draco’s hips, pulling him close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco’s hands were sliding up Harry’s neck, cupping his jaw, winding their way through his wiry hair.  Merlin, he felt good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Draco whined out as Harry found his neck, working along the underside of his jaw.  Draco’s fingers were fighting against the buttons on Harry’s shirt, desperately pulling to find more skin.  “You picked the worst outfit to fuck,” he muttered, and Harry couldn’t contain his laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry.  Next time I’ll wear Velcro,” he grinned, sucking a mark onto Draco’s skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He whimpered.  “Don’t you fucking dare.  Mmm, what a scandal.” Harry’s hands trailed downward, squeezing the globes of Draco’s arse.  Whatever else he’d been planning on saying was lost to a throaty whine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took them another few minutes of tangling hands and unappreciated grunts to get Harry’s auror uniform off.  On the other hand, Draco was stripped in the bat of an eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was thin, but not unhealthily so, from what Harry could tell.  His chest was pressing – no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>arching</span>
  </em>
  <span> – into Harry’s as he rubbed a lubed finger against Draco’s hole.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, Potter, stop teasing.  Put. It. In. Or I swear to Merlin—” he whined, rubbing his cock against Harry’s.  Harry grunted, pushing against Draco’s rim until he could slowly work his finger inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy was making these soft little moans, one arm slung around Harry’s shoulders to keep him upright as the other worked between them, pumping Harry’s cock.  Draco’s fingers felt amazing, swirling up around the head before sliding up and squeezing against the base. He felt so fucking good, Harry knew he could’t contain himself much longer, not with Malfoy trembling and begging like it was the only night he would ever be fucked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked them back toward the couch, resting Draco’s naked back against the dark leather before working in a second finger.  Draco was </span>
  <em>
    <span>mewling</span>
  </em>
  <span>, breathless voice a staccato of want.  “Can I?” Harry mumbled, catching eyes with Draco.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare think about stopping now, Potter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry pulled his fingers out, casting a wandless lube charm before pressing his cock against Draco’s arse.  “Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>tight</span>
  </em>
  <span> against Harry as he bottomed out, and Draco let out another moan, hands coming around Harry’s torso.  Strung-taunt and desperate, Draco’s lips began working at Harry’s neck. “Move,” he muttered. “Potter, move.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Harry did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hips worked into Draco’s, finding a quick rhythm between them.  He wasn’t going to last long like this, not with Draco arching underneath him, smearing precum across both of their stomachs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, Potter,” he moaned out.  “Oh, yes, yes, yes, right there, mmm,” he cried out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s hips stuttered at the noise before pressing deeper into Draco, right where he was crying out for, using every last ounce of control in his body to get Draco to finish before he did.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>His boots were quick to put back on, even as Draco was still lounging against the couch with half-lidded eyes and plump, over kissed lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t spend the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco doesn’t seek him out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry doesn’t think into it.  There's something about the unspoken rule Draco set with their conversation that keeps him away.  They can never be friends. Harry’s too light, and Draco’s too dark. That’s just how it is.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Draco’s got a woman hanging from his arm.  She’s been curled across the headlines all week, legs modeling designer gowns, lips quirking in a smile with each glance Draco’s way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s seen the photos in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prophet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the words contemplating Malfoy’s merit.  He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>evil</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a Death Eater.  The words are a jarring reminder of his past, of all their pasts.  But his clothes are impeccable, and desperate women hanging from him – as long as they’re beautiful – only add to his credit as someone worth watching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long for her to find other warm bodies worthy of pursuit, and the news is echoing again not long after about French women, red headed and playful, flocking to Draco’s studio.  What he does with them, Harry can only speculate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry tried not to think of it, Malfoy naked.  Malfoy fucking beautiful women instead of being fucked by him.  It was just a passing thing, desperation for pleasure and too much booze blurring his thoughts.  Despite trying to convince himself of those things, it still didn’t stop him from putting up the wards to his office and wanking himself to the thought of Malfoy’s needy moans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he, too, moved on with life.  Avery’s sweet, funny, though a bit too bubbly, and although she isn’t exactly his type, an evening with her every once in a while isn’t monumentally unpleasant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The reasoning for their date tonight revolves around friendly favors.  They’re at an art gala, one presenting a few of Luna’s pieces. Her work is unique at best, bizarre at worst, and although he’s never been one for art, he felt an obligation to support his friend, even in her strange endeavors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’ve lapped the room twice, eventually landing on a painting that definitely isn’t Luna’s, but is nevertheless there for viewing.  Avery’s fascinated by it, rambling on about the use of complementary colors used to stimulate movement of this and that, but Harry’s not really listening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room is loud, hot, stifling, and Harry can’t seem to focus.  It’s interactions like these that are the hardest; crowds remind him of the crowds in his past: a castle, a battle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He realizes now that Avery’s not talking to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>anymore.  She’s talking to someone else, petit, fair, with eyes as wide as saucers.  He can’t focus on what the girl’s saying, but he catches the eye of the man at her side.  Malfoy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s casting glances at Harry.  They’re measured, wary, but Malfoy makes no remarks at his lack of focus.  For that, he’s grateful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione’s hand is resting on his shoulder, voice sharp and clear in his ear.  “Are you doing okay, Harry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded.  It’s jerky, but only she would pick up on that.  “I’m gonna step out for a minute,” he said, trembling fingers tracing the box of cigarettes in his pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her look was disdainful, but she didn’t move to stop him as he wandered off toward a dark, empty hall at the other end of the room.  It’s quiet there, shadowed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>private</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  It’s exactly what he needs to calm down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was just about to pull the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket when he was pushed against the nearest wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the—” he stumbled, almost falling.  If it hadn’t been for the arm wrapping around his waist, keeping him upright, they both would’ve tumbled to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy was smirking back at him, flicking one of his wrists lazily.  The curtain billowed around them, closing them off from the rest of the world, as Malfoy smashed his lips to Harry’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he grunted, hands finding Malfoy’s shoulders, hauling him closer as their bodies slotted together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their kisses were wet, sloppy, needy, and Harry felt heat flush through his stomach at the feel of Malfoy’s hands sliding under his shirt.  He wanted to stop it, remind Malfoy they were in public, but he didn’t. Draco was too intoxicating to even think of stopping, fingertips tracing the bulge of Harry’s trousers.  He needed release, needed to fuck Malfoy again. He couldn’t help it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But that wasn’t Malfoy’s plan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He bit Harry’s earlobe, tongue caressing it as his fingers slipped under the band of his slacks.  His boxers felt too tight with Malfoy touching him like that, but Draco didn’t make to remove any of the clothes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like that, Potter?” he murmured.  Harry shuddered, the teasing tone of Malfoy’s voice luring him in like a siren.  “I’m gonna make you cum right here through your clothes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck—”  His head fell against Malfoy’s shoulder, skin too hot and not hot enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco chuckled, but it was breathless, wavering with want.  “Not today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands scrambled against Draco’s clothes, desperate for any way to get more friction, get his hands on Malfoy’s skin, but it was pointless.  His clothes were fastened tight, and Harry grunted in frustration at Malfoy’s fashion choices. “You couldn’t have picked something easier?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s hardly fashion forward, Potter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He meant to laugh, but it came out strangled as Draco squeezed especially hard against his cock.  His hips rutted forward, stuttering against air. Malfoy wasn’t enough, he couldn’t cum this way. But at the same time, he was enough.  Too much. Harry’s hands scraped against Malfoy’s sides, rucking up the expensive fabric, wrinkling it more than Malfoy would’ve liked, but he was a bit too distracted to comment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry gasped as his balls tightened, as Malfoy was still muttering sinful nothings in his ear.  “You’re gonna cum right here where anyone could catch you. Fuck, Potter, you’re so needy. So desperate for a fuck, aren’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He meant to warn Malfoy, he really did, but the words caught in his throat.  Malfoy’s voice pushed him too far, skilled fingers milking his cum for all it was worth.  “Oh, fuck,” he breathed, hips canting forward into Malfoy’s hand, stealing every inch of friction he possibly could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy rubbed him until his hips stopped, body reduced to barely-there twitches.  For a moment, Harry felt liquid, warm body pooled against Draco’s solid, lanky one.  But it didn’t last.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy pulled away, smirking at Harry’s lust blown eyes and heaving chest.  “So needy, Potter,” he tutted, pulling away. Before he could answer, the curtains slipped open and Malfoy waltzed out, hips swaying in a prideful saunter.  With a flick of Malfoy’s wrist, Harry felt his body cool, glancing down as the wet spot on his trousers disappeared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leave it to Malfoy to cast a cleaning charm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He emerged a few moments later on loose legs, body relaxed in post-orgasm warmth.  When he returned, Hermione and the girls were still talking, Draco now sidled up alongside his date.  Avery didn’t notice his return, eyes glued onto the painting they were discussing, bubbly voice carrying with fervor.  However, Hermione noticed. Her eyes darted between Draco and Harry – a look neither failed to notice – before a small frown of disappointment settled across her features.  Harry felt his stomach drop, and he saw Malfoy bristle slightly under her scrutiny. However, she didn’t utter a word. It was probably more for Avery’s sake than his own, but he was glad nevertheless that she didn’t choose to comment on what she deduced occurred between the pair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next morning, an owl was waiting on the windowsill from Hermione, recommending one Millie Barrenford from the Care of Magical Creatures division for an evening out if he was dissatisfied with Avery’s company.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was, but that had nothing to do with his second excursion with Malfoy, he reasoned, lighting his first cigarette of the morning before he’d even really realized he needed it.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Millie was even more bubbly than Avery, he’d noticed with dismay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had only been fifteen minutes into the date before he realized how grave a mistake it had been taking Hermione’s advice on women.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was nice enough, funny and knowledgeable, but there was just nothing about her for him to like in a more than friendly fashion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fashion.  That made him think of Malfoy, the way he had spread wide on the couch for Harry to fuck.  Merlin, he needed something like that again. Millie certainly wasn’t going to get him there, though.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The date ended as quaintly as it had begun, and Harry opted to walk instead of apparate back to Grimmauld.  He needed to clear his head, think about something else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was dark, but not overly cold, and the glow of the shop lights livened up the streets.  Had Harry the desire to admire beauty in anything anymore, he might have found it in the unique little alleys he wandered through now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That is, until he turned the next corner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was outside a restaurant, something a little more black-tie than the establishment he’d taken Millie to, but that wasn’t what startled him.  It was the men snogging, bodies pressed together almost desperately against the brick wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco looked like he could cum on the spot, body taunt and nearly shaking with the intensity of their kisses.  Their hands were tracing over one another, quick squeezes and gasping breaths matched with nibbled lips and poorly hidden moans.  And perhaps that wouldn’t have bothered him normally, but it did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whirling on his heel, he rushed away from the scene, attempting to avoid walking too quickly – making a scene – in his haste to get away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other man was Darren Worsfordshire, an auror in </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>department.  He felt like he was going to be sick, bile clamoring up his throat as the curry from dinner did anything but settle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled the pack of cigs from his pocket, words unsteady as he lit one, lifted it to his chapped lips.  The drag was like a calming draught, but he still couldn’t shake the image playing back in his memory.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The club was too loud, too bright.  Not at all what Harry had hoped for on a first date.  The girl was less bubbly than the rest, but no more intriguing than the others.  Harry was bored, pent up and horribly in need of something to make the experience worthwhile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes met a pair of sultry ones from across the room.  Malfoy was lounging at the bar, a girl with purple hair hanging on a little too closely to his words.  They don’t have to speak this time for Harry to know what the glance means; they’ve met at enough venues over the last month to know what to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clock said midnight.  Only a few minutes more of enduring a pleasureless bump-n-grind before he could escape the dance floor to something infinitely more enjoyable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaned toward the girl’s ear.  “I’m gonna use the loo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, pulling off of him and letting him escape the crowd.  She was having too much fun to notice the eyes tracing her date’s movement across the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bathroom stalls were small but doable for their needs.  Hazy, neon lights greeted Harry’s vision. Noise trickled in through the door, the bass loud and unyielding, but that hardly mattered.  He checked the watch on his wrist again and heard someone clear their throat outside his stall door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was 12:05.  Just in time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry undid the lock, and Malfoy slid in beside him, a confident smirk curling his features.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t take time for silencing charms; the speed only aided the thrill.  Harry was on Draco as soon as the door closed, tongue probing against Draco’s lips.  He tasted like vodka and cranberry juice, biting, zingy. He worked his way down Malfoy’s neck, drawing out every breathless gasp he could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy was noisy, full of needy moans and tantalizing words whenever he was with Harry.  It was intoxicating, watching Malfoy react, fall apart just for him. Harry enjoyed drinking in all the ways Malfoy would writhe and gasp under his ministrations.  There was something about it, those times Malfoy would relinquish control, become pliable with need in Harry’s hands, that nested in Harry’s chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tremble of Malfoy’s body as he undid the button on his pants was enough to prompt Harry down, knees pressing uncomfortably to the concrete.  It didn’t matter. He wanted to watch Draco’s desire build, draw every ounce of want he could find.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Harry pulled Malfoy’s cock, swollen, flushed, from his clothes, Draco gasped, hand flying to the back of Harry’s already unkempt hair.  He knew what Draco wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tongue poking out, he caressed the underside of Draco’s prick, following the vein that made Draco’s knees go weak.  He lapped against the head, savoring the taste of precum that dripped against his lips. Rubbing his cheek against the side, the hand in his hair tightened and he groaned.  He slid his nose against the bottom, tongue following it back to the head before swallowing Draco’s cock whole, taking in all he could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He relaxed his throat, doing exactly what he knew Draco liked.  Harry’s hands slid against Draco’s hips, pinning him against the stall door.  They were bathed in pink light from the rafters, and it only made the hot flush of Draco’s cheeks all the more prominent.  He whined, attempting to cast his hips forward despite Harry’s tight hold on them. He sucked harder, cheeks hollowing out as he bobbed up and down, pooling spit dribbling from his chin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy whined, the sound not nearly as muffled as he’d intended it to be.  “Fuck, Potter,” he whispered, hips studdering forward again. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry knew what that meant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slid from Malfoy’s cock, lapping again at the tip before standing up with a grunt.  His knees hurt, but that didn’t matter, not when he had Malfoy begging him to keep going.  “Take your pants off.” It was an order, one Malfoy didn’t object to. “Turn around.” He leaned against Malfoy’s back, using a hand to pin his narrow wrists to the bathroom door above his head.  Tugging his own prick, he shuddered in anticipation at what he was about to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m stretched,” Draco muttered as Harry muttered a wandless lube charm.  “Please, just— Oooh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry pressed his cock into Malfoy’s hole, groaning under his breath at just how tight Malfoy still was.  He felt perfect, muscles fluttering against him as his body adjusted to being filled. Harry rocked forward, grunting again at the feeling of sliding against Draco.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was biting his lip, rocking back the slightest amount into Harry.  “Faster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco didn’t have to ask twice.  They quickly found a rapid rhythm between them.  Draco ground back against Harry’s cock while Harry snapped his hips forward, both of sharing breathless gasps.  The slap of their skin couldn’t be heard over the music, but Harry knew it was there, and it sent an ache through his cock.  It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>much stimulus, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>much want.  He wouldn’t last long, but he had to last long enough to get Malfoy to finish.  His lips found the hot neck before him, sticky with sweat, kissing and biting against the sensitive skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Potter,” he whined, “Fuck, right there.  I’m so close.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wrapped his hand around Draco’s front, rubbing his prick with a loose hand in time to his thrusts.  And Draco faltered, hips stuttering as he spilled his spunk onto Harry’s hand, splattering it against the wall of the stall.  His head fell against their pinned hands, mind lost in the pleasure wracking through his body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s stomach burned, flushed with warmth as he felt the last of Malfoy’s cum slide across his fingers.  “Fuck,” he grunted, thrusting as deep as he could into Malfoy’s arse as he came, drawing Malfoy as close as he possibly could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stayed that way for a moment, pulled close and panting, basking in satisfaction, before Harry pulled out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco winced at the movement, resting against the dingy door for a moment longer.  Harry let him, casting some cleaning charms on the wall and Malfoy. That seemed to draw his attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a sigh, Draco pulled his pants back up, reaching out to pull Harry’s up as well.  He fastened them, the faintest of smiles pulling on his lips. “It was nice to see you, Potter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice to see you, too, Malfoy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco licked his thumb, wiping the precum from Harry’s nose, his cheeks.  “Such a mess,” he muttered, eyes bright with an amused expression, before he opened the door, stepping out with Harry following shortly after.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His date was still dancing, and despite wishing he could just go home and bask in the satisfaction Draco brought him, he couldn’t.  He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> that demanding person he was around Malfoy in secluded corners and hidden rooms.  Although he’d always had an argumentative side, he’d grown quieter after the war, more attuned to peoples’ needs.  He liked to please, liked to help, and hated the thought of hurting this poor girl’s feelings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They danced a little more, his eyes sometimes scanning the empty spot at the bar Malfoy had once been occupying.  However, as the evening drew to a close, he still couldn’t find a way to comfortably let her down. She seemed so happy, drunk as she may have been, and he didn’t want to risk dampening that joy.  He’d already decided they’d never have another date, but she hadn’t realized his thinly concealed misery.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked her home, a flat not far from the club, and her eyes fluttered as they came to the porch.  “Thank you for the date,” she giggled, leaning in close to him. “Mind a goodnight kiss?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grimaced, but complied anyway.  It was short and not particularly unpleasant, but it made him feel nothing, and he left feeling just as displeased as the night had begun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walk back to Grimmauld wasn’t too far, but his thoughts raced the distance ten times over.  He still wanted Malfoy. He wanted to know when he’d see Malfoy again, and he wanted to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wanted that so badly.  They’d never gotten along, never been great at talking, but they’d also never really attempted it outside of vile words and scathing remarks in Hogwarts.  Things were different now. In some ways, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> compatible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing made any sense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smoked the whole walk home, but it didn’t seem to make a difference.  It wasn’t enough to make him feel better. Probably because it wasn’t at all what he wanted.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The hour before his shift ended the next day, he’d already been through five cigarettes.  He needed to talk to Malfoy. That thought had been blaring in his head since they’d left the bathroom the evening prior.  But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>, could he?  What if he ruined everything they had?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But what </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> they have?  Things now were only in passing, only temporary, until one or the other settled down with someone.  Harry didn’t want to settle down, though. He didn’t want Malfoy to, either. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted Malfoy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His thoughts traveled to all their recent excursions, heated moments in passing that he couldn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>ignore</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  There was something drawing him to Malfoy, something that made Malfoy worth the risk of getting caught, of being drug through the papers, drug by his friends.  Malfoy was </span>
  <em>
    <span>worth</span>
  </em>
  <span> that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The street looked the same as it had the first time he’d followed it.  Everything, even the flowers outside Malfoy’s door looked the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco seemed surprised to see Harry, but not displeased as he let him in, guided him back to the study they’d been in that first night.  As soon as the door closed, Draco was on him, lips connecting in a heated rush, pushing Harry against the nearest wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can’t do this.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”  Draco’s fingers were at the buttons on his pants. “I need you. Not just when we run into each other.  I need you all the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re too virtuous for me, Potter.  We’ve been over this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re too infuriating for me, but somehow we’ve made it this far without killing one another.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco snorted, but the sound was muffled as his lips connected with Harry’s neck.  “That’s the standard we’re going with now, are we? No deaths and things are right as rain?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If that’s what it takes for us to work, be more than just sometimes, then yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said okay, Potter.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Now shut up and take these ghastly robes off.  I would’ve thought you’d remember to wear something more suitable after last time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry chuckled, warmth pooling in his chest at the thought that things might just be able to work between them.  That maybe they </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> be more.  Draco didn’t have to ask twice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were never meant to be friends.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!  I hope you enjoyed, or that I at least managed to capture a little bit of MGK's song in there.  If you found it completely cringy, sorry.  Me writing anything explicitly sexual is a rarity, and it probably won't happen again in the future because I try to avoid writing smutty things!  I just couldn't pass up such an inspiring song.  You can also find me over on <a href="https://silentexplorer18.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> if you'd like.  Have a great day!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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